DISCLAIMER I do not Own Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Everything in this story bar the Plot, and a few Characters belongs to Rick Riordan.
Also, Feel free to review your thoughts on anything, I'd like to hear what I've done well as this is pretty much my first ever Fanfic. Additionally, criticisms both expected and welcomed, I'd also love to hear what I'm NOT doing well etc.
Chapter 1 -
The sound of sandals crunching sand hit the end of the Cavern. It continued endlessly, accompanied by the repeated clink of dripping water hitting solid rock. A grunt echoed to the right, as simultaneously the left coughed.
"Where is the Unnamed?"
A voice whispered hurriedly by the torch at the door. Excitement and Anticipation corrupted by Fear and Anxiety.
"Chain'd at e Back Lord. Causin' Trubble wif the others he is"
The incoherent drawl of the head guard. Not a true Roman, but if you said as much his club could leave more than a small bruise.
"A word?"
The clinking continued its repetitive tune.
Finally, "Don't get close t the bars Lord, known t'use Essence at'times"
More Sand crunched under Sandals, until a squat man in a white toga peered from under a hood through the metal bars.
The man squinted, attempting to obtain a better view.
"You". Silence.
"Slave. I know you speak Latin". Irritation and Arrogance.
The clinking beat returned
"I offer life, for knowledge"
"Not the Brightest Lord" White Toga glanced at the chuckling guard in further irritation.
"I don't have time for this boy. You fight tomorrow."
After a moment of silence, another cough sounded to the left, Followed by a resigned sigh from the white toga.
"If tomorrow you live, I will again seek you out. If you speak of Greece on your Land, you will be freed" Awaiting some facial response, white toga stood by the bars for several short moments, before turning and shuffling away.
Sandals crunching sand continued for a brief while, until the Cavern returned to a tranquil melody of clinks, coughs and grunts.
-0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0-
Fingering the tattoo on his hand, the Sea green-eyed man glanced at the rock walls incarcerating him. If he had training, he'd be walking through these walls as if they were air.
Unfortunately he hadn't received any instruction on the Essence, and as such could barely lift a pebble from the floor without getting extreme head spins.
The man was tall and well built, had darkly tanned skin, and a mane of matted black hair down to his shoulders.
Glancing up, he peered at the metal rods buried into the sand on the other side of the bars. The rods were meant to absorb any Essence used within a radius of them.
As if they needed them, he wasn't half as dangerous as a Demigod.
"Ready yet?"
The Guard smugly stared from behind the safety of the cell.
Without asking, several others appeared around him, holding metal chains, each link inscribed with a single rune.
Binding Chains, for preventing Demigods access to the Essence.
Entering the room with caution, they edged toward him.
The man simply turned and faced the corner, rather that than fight and hinder his chances later.
A loud crack sounded across the cell, and the dark haired man felt a sting in the back of his head.
-OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO-
Blinding light burst through closed lids, but it was the sudden impact with solid ground that roused him.
Reaching behind a blood caked skull, The large figure ran fingers through clumped and crusty hair, before the tips of fingers rested on a huge cluster of dried blood. Wincing in pain, he pressed fingers into the clump, trying to test the injury.
A geyser of red fluid started spewing from the skull.
"Shit, cover that up quick" a gruff voice to the right stated.
Turning to the noise, an ageing man tore a corner of his rag and passed it over.
"Thanks"
The Ageing man glanced at the bloody figure in shock, then the tattoo on his hand for a moment, before he turned his attention to their surroundings.
"Might want to hurry up, otherwise you'll have six more cracks to worry about"
Finally surveying the area while tying the rag around his forehead, the man recoiled from the sight.
They were standing in the centre of a ring 500 metres across.
Rising high above the pit were thousands of people cheering and screaming.
The sun Glared angrily from above, and the tattooed man bowed his head in reverence for a brief moment.
"Perseus"
The old man looked to the younger.
"Yes, I suppose we'll be meeting him soon."
The younger man furrowed his brow.
"My name. Perseus"
The older man looked at Perseus in shock.
"But you're unnamed?"
Annoyance spread across Perseus's face.
"Perseus." He repeated.
Again, the older man appeared shocked, and raised a hand to point at the tattoo on his hand.
"Is that because of the tattoo?"
Before Perseus could respond a roughly ground triangle erupted through the old mans throat, coating a surprised face in glistening dark red sinew.
Cheers burst through the crowd and Perseus quickly got to his feet.
Men stood in groups in various stages of battle about the ring.
Bodies already littered the blood stained sand.
Scanning the floor about him, Perseus discovered the only weapon in the surrounding area.
A small shiv made from flint.
Sand scuffled behind him, and Perseus dove to the floor before him.
a moment later a sword struck the floor, but not before biting deep into Perseus' calf.
Staggering to his feet, and still feeling light headed, Perseus dashed forward, slashing the shiv right under the brim of a helmet.
The man was too shocked to respond before he collapsed, clutching at the fluid spraying from his cut throat.
Wiping the hot, sticky liquid from his eyes, Perseus lifted the fallen sword from the sand.
Noticing his Demigod blood turning a tinge of gold, he noted it had already starting to seal his newly acquired wounds, Perseus calmly paced towards a larger group of fighters.
The first man to notice Perseus wrenched his shield around just in time to hear the clank of Perseus' sword clatter of it's domed surface. Only for his previous opponent to launch his trident directly into the mans shoulder, and throw a net over his struggling foe.
Slamming the sword down through the mans chest, which gave surprisingly little resistance, Perseus turned toward his next challenger as red foam spluttered from the dying mans gurgling mouth.
Perseus couldn't her the clang of sword against sword as he swirled and weaved between swings. All he could hear was a familiar cough to his left. Only now the familiar cough was tainted with the noise of thick fluid being pumped from lungs.
Grimacing, Perseus blocked a quick downward slash before rolling towards the noise.
A deathly pale man about 16 years old leaned against a severed torso, staring down at his legs. One was missing a large chunk of it's thigh, and the other had an arrow pierced straight through the knee. Occasionally the man broke his eerie silence with another rattling cough, or to spit out some more phloem.
He didn't notice Perseus standing before him.
"get back 'ere you filthy barbarian" a deep booming voice barreled at Perseus.
Again rolling out of the way, Perseus ended slightly behind the titanic man, slashing the tendon on the back of the mans ankle.
The giant fell like a logged tree, stiff, but with eyes wide open. Panicked.
Perseus returned to the coughing man.
"Death...Or pain?"
The man finally glanced up from his deformed lower body
"pain"
Perseus sighed, but lifted the man onto his shoulders, carrying a screaming mass of flailing arms. He jogged with the man towards the edge of the arena, each step causing a small scream form his charge, but before he could reach it another Gladiator turned his attention to Perseus.
Without missing a step, Perseus threw his blade overhead, lodging it into the lower waist of the unarmored man.
Finally reaching the rim of the Arena, Perseus gently placed the coughing man down.
"Pain." he simply stated, before returning his attention to where he had left his blade, ignoring the tormented muttering and screaming from the man behind.